On the fifth day at dusk, the snowstorm had not yet arrived, but a chilling anxiety spread throughout the canyon, as if even the air had lowered its voice.
Deep within the camp, a few wisps of cooking smoke had just risen, and the scouts' low-voiced reports echoed between the rocks.
Visa crouched in front of a map behind a rock, frowning at the updated frontier defense map.
"... The scout positions change slightly every day, hard to find a pattern, but there's definitely a planned adjustment." A scout chewed on dried meat, speaking in a low tone.
"It's the best defense scale I've seen in the Northern Territory." Another veteran frowned.
Visa's gaze grew more solemn; she could sense that this border defense was not merely for protection.
The rhythm and layout resembled a wartime scenario, crafted by a highly professional military core, rather than the usual style of an Empire's territorial lord.
This meant that the owner of this territory was not simple.
